Crossing the Road
by Kairyn Majere
Summary: The first small (downright tiny) installment of my Dragonlance Records crossowver. I prefer my own original fiction, but an easier Fanfic is always a nice thing now and again, eh?


Crossing the Road  
  
The Citadel shook with the sounds of the battle. The Citadel was tall and strong. It had survived many wars, battles, and rulers. It was, if anything, greater than those who had ruled it throughout its ancient past.  
The Citadel was unique, totally and absolutely so. It was crowned with a cone, tall and strong, upon which was mounted a symbol of utter strangeness. An X, warped slightly, and turned on its side. Around the Citadel were many streams and unknown pathways, roads which led to and fro, back and forth, up and along, through a hell of bramble, a maze of pain and misery. And now, about its mighty base, the brambles were burning, the streams were dying, choked with the dead, and a hell was gathering that would topple the ancient place.  
One lone man was marching on the Citadel, indeed, the armies that now plagued the ground, embracing the fertile soil, belonged to the Citadel. One man had destroyed the very things that had preserved this monument, save for its own awesome majesty. This man, the Citadel perceived, was dressed in black, a cloak or robe, heavy and fine, laced and lined with silver that shimmered with the light of a dark moon, upon its back it bore an hourglass, and in its hand, a golden sickly hand, it held aloft a staff topped by a golden claw, which grasped an orb. No light shone upon this mans face; darkness was cast upon it, and this served to bring the man's sickly features and thin paleness into bold relief.  
The man raised his staff, and uttered some ancient words of magic, his cloaked rippled about him, as did the power he controlled, for a moment a thunderstorm loomed around this pallid soul, and then, the silence which would have stretched for eternity, broke, and waves of power were cast over the Citadel, casting it down, and ruining its splendor. It was broke asunder, and cast back to the dirt, to embrace the very dirt its armies embraced.  
This was a man to mourn for.  
  
Karla did not care for the people of her island, she did not care for anyone, she cared only for the island, that it may hang balanced forever. Her love for this land is what made her the most hated and feared of sorceresses, her maternal care for this place. Balance.  
She sensed almost immediately the magical forces that had been released. She knew not from whence they came, but the energy was immense. Something had happened. She knew where it had happened too. But to act, she had sensed power that had rivaled her own. She would need to investigate. She would investigate- such is the way of things, for the Balance.  
  
The dark inky blackness stirred. The farmhand was surprised by the sudden movement, and leapt back, out of the way of whatever it was, an orc or goblin perhaps? The farmhand was much relieved to see that the thing was a man in a dark cloak. The man staggered for a moment and the farmhand, seeing the man's rich garments, quickly moved to offer help.  
"Sir, sir?...might I be of assistance," the farmhands tone was rough with a days work and surprise, and his discomfiture rose as he grabbed the man's arm to steady him, and bring him to his feet. This man was warm to the touch, it was hideous, like sort of inner heat, the farmhand grew nauseated at the touch.  
"Take your hand OFF ME!!!!" The cloaked one's voice rose only to slightly louder than whisperers volumes, but it was none-the-less like a roar to the startled farmhand, who released this cloaked man as a matter of reflex.  
It was then that the farmhand saw this man's eyes, they were hourglasses, horrifying, penetrating, forsaken. The farmhand turned and ran as fast as he could, but even he could not outrun a spell, which shattered his body, and cast aside his soul.  
  
Raistlin Majere watched the farmhand run. There was no time to consider consequences; he knew not where he was, nor who inhabited this land. The fleeing figure vanished as a light reached out, stealing his body and soul.  
Majere now looked around, examining his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was the falling tower, he had cast down. Now he stood on a field of poppies and daffodils. He was nowhere he had been before. Plains stretched for as far as the eye could see. It was only then, curiosity abated from this unexpected turn of events that he noticed he still clutched the Staff of Majere in his hand. He smiled, it was time to leave.  
"Dracon faltori impera telempori" in his mind he saw his lab in the Tower of Sorcery in Palanthas. When he opened his eyes his mouth twitched in the sudden surprise he felt, and his eyes narrowed, he stood still where he had been, in a field of poppies and daffodils. He let out a viscous curse at the gods, they could NOT stop him.  
He would find an alternative exit from this place. He raised his hand in an arcane gesture, and rose into the air; nothing could take his magic from him.  
  
Karla watched through a crystal ball. A man, not old, nor truly young had been awakened by a Farmhand. The man had fled shortly later, but, for what reasons, Karla could not tell, and she frowned, for she was not use to her will be thwarted. The man uttered some words, strange words, but in them Karla could sense power, then he yelled curses in a strange tong. After a few moments he lifted into the air, and soared off into the east. This man had Karla's interest, and she decided to follow him and discover the nature of the magic she had felt. With a word she vanished, following the cloaked man.  
  
The Holy City of Valis shone; marble domed and bright in the sunlight. The city was in a prime, for Etoh himself, the lord of the city, had seen to it that such prosperity came to the kingdom. But he had reason to grow worried, only days ago he had felt a great magickal disturbance in distant plains to the east. The disturbance had been great enough that he had called upon an old friend, Parn, to go have a look. He did not like what he saw.Karla may be involved.  
"My lord, My Lord!!!!" a soldier gasped, saluting hastily, "My Lord, you asked to be informed of anything suspicious!!!!" the man paused a second time, then, gathering himself, "My Lord, Parn has returned bringing with him a strange man clad in black, who's face is shrouded that none may see."  
"You did well Soldier, informing me," responded Etoh, his voice serene, now he would not be surprised by who it was that Parn had brought back. Still, "Go, guide our guests here," Etoh issued his command, could this man have been the source of this magic?  
Etoh waited, although only for a few minutes, during which worries and misgivings he had lay heavily on his thoughts, and he considered the impact of this man.  
"My Lord, Sir Parn and his escort, The." the guard paused, "Archmage Raistlin Majere." The name was strange.  
"Greetings travelers, guards, leave myself and Parn with this guest, I am sure we can handle ourselves," Etoh smiled slightly, the guards were obsessed with his safety. "Please, sit," Etoh smiled at his guests.  
Parn gladly sat, but the man who had identified himself as Raistlin Majere remained standing. Etoh smiled again, how very interesting.  
He waited for the Archmage to introduce himself, but it was indeed Parn who spoke first, "Etoh, how good to see you again, it is truly marvelous to see you after so long. This man," Parn gestured at the Archmage, "has assured me that he doesn't know what magic you sensed and that it certainly wasn't his."  
At this the Archmage cut off the Free Knight, he began speaking in a soft, viperous voice, "I am Raistlin Majere, I had resided in Palanthas, in the Tower of High Sorcery, but now I find myself here," he paused, and then asked abruptly, and much to Etoh's surprise, "Which god do you worship?"  
Etoh was caught off guard. Which god, he was the High Priest of Falaris, supreme God of Light, and known by all but a few. He could only stare for a moment, but he recovered with so little as a blink, "I am the High Priest of Falaris, Supreme God of Light, and who, pray tell, do you worship?" Etoh was pleased with his response.  
"I, Raistlin Majere, worship know god." the word was issued contemptuously, filled with hate, "these so called gods have cursed me, and I will be avenged on them, but I have not heard of a god called Falaris."  
Parn grunted in surprise, he had heard almost nothing from this man on the trip back, but even he was astounded by this sudden statement; "No god?"  
Etoh was equally surprised, "Falaris, the God of Light."  
The Archmage made no response, but it was obvious he still did not recognize the name.  
Etoh settled in to explain of the gods to this man, it would be a time before he could deal with anything else, and he was very curious of this golden skinned mage, who exuded magic, seemingly from every pore in his body.  
  
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Karla had followed the Mage until he had met up with Parn. Now, she had considered, was not the time to confront them. And besides, she knew where they were going. Valis...  
  
End First Installment 


End file.
